


Late Nights/Early Mornings

by SeafoamSoul



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: F/M, Fluff, age gap, banter bc we all luv some good banter, coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:34:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25459411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeafoamSoul/pseuds/SeafoamSoul
Summary: The new coffee shop owner takes issue with the noise coming from your club down the street. But that’s not all he has an issue with.
Relationships: Michael Cole/Original Character(s)





	Late Nights/Early Mornings

One of the hardest things about owning and running your own club was that the musical acts you often got to play for you never knew when to leave. More often than not, you would have to usher them out in the wee hours of the morning, wanting nothing more than to go home and get some rest yourself. 

Today was no different. The club had officially closed hours ago, and usually you would still be in the office doing paperwork and getting things ready for the night to come. Instead, you were attempting to get the band you’d hired for the night to finally leave the drum set alone. You were sure you could only take so many more random drum fills before your head exploded, but none of them seemed to be fazed by it. 

“Let us know if you ever want us back!” the singer yelled over his shoulder as they finally walked out and down the street together. 

You didn’t reply, just waved them off before turning back into the club to grab your bag and locking the door. When you stepped outside, yanking at the door to ensure it was secure, you turned to see a stranger standing at the door to the coffee shop next door, eyes focused on the band that was still slowly making their way down the street. 

“Do you know how late it is?” He asked, voice cool as his eyes still settled on the rowdy musicians. “You should probably learn to control your employees instead of letting them wake the whole street up so late,” he continued, turning to look at you. 

“Sorry, grandpa.” You knew it was late - or rather early - but sarcasm dripped from your voice as your eyes studied the older man. He was impeccably dressed, his salt and pepper hair cropped short. His button up shirt was tucked into nice slacks, a patterned tie around his neck. Vaguely, you remembered the coffee shop you frequented on early mornings like this one was sold to a new owner and had been closed for a week in order for the change to occur. You had to be looking at the new owner. 

“Grandpa? Just how old do you think I am?” Now he sounded indignant, and you couldn’t help the smirk on your face as you finally stepped away from the door to your club and walked closer to the coffee shop - and the new owner. 

“Old enough to complain about a little bit of noise.” You rolled your eyes at him, nodding to the coffee shop. “You open this morning? I need some caffeine so I can keep on causing a ruckus, annoying all the elders in the community.”

“The shop’s closed,” he answered quickly, turning on his heel and opening the door. 

“That’s fine. I’ll just wait out here til you’re open!” 

He paused mid-step, sighing. “Come on,” he grumbled, holding the door open and allowing you to walk inside in front of him.

“The old owner knew my order by heart. It’s okay if you can’t quite do the same, though. I know you can’t teach an old dog new tricks.” The smile on your face was sickly sweet as the owner glared at you from behind the counter. He wasn’t even that old, you knew that much just from speaking to him, but you couldn’t stop yourself from poking the proverbial bear. It didn’t help that he caught you on a bad morning, when your headache was already forming and you wished you had been in bed hours before. 

Still, something about the cold glare in his grey eyes was both entertaining and intriguing, and as he made your coffee, you couldn’t help but think about how they’d look if they were warmer, coupled with a smile rather than the grimace he was directing at you. 

—

You managed to avoid running into the new owner of the coffee shop for the next few days, the club closing on time allowing you to make it home long before the coffee shop’s doors ever opened. 

Now, though, paperwork had taken hours to do once the last customer finally left and you were finally locking the door at 5:45. You stifled a yawn as you yanked the door, ensuring it was secure, before your eyes focused on the lit up windows of the coffee shop. The allure of coffee drew you in, even if you weren’t necessarily looking forward to an interaction with the shop’s grumpy new owner. 

Even still, a small smile came to your face as you walked towards the door as you recalled just how grumpy you made him. Maybe a cup of coffee and a bit of verbal sparring would be enough to keep you awake long enough to make it home safely. 

Before you’d even consciously made the decision to, you were opening the door to the coffee shop. It was empty, quiet, but you still saw the owner bustling around behind the counter. He was impeccably dressed yet again, but the sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up to his elbows and he had an apron around his waist. 

Any question you had about what he was doing behind the counter when he had no customers was answered when he turned to face you as you stepped in front of the cash register. He held a cup in his hand, pushing it across the counter towards you. 

“Caramel dirty chai,” he said, fighting back a smile at the surprised look on your face. “I guess this old dog can learn a few new tricks.”

Your eyes narrowed just slightly as you took in the scene before you, your hands already digging into your wallet for your debit card. As he took it from your hand, you noticed the name tag on his shirt.

“Aren’t you a little overdressed to be slinging coffee beverages all day, Michael?” You asked, taking your card and drink from him. 

“What would you prefer I wear? Skinny jeans?” His eyes raked down your body, taking in your ripped skinny jeans before meeting your eyes again. 

“Please, grandpa, as if you even know where to buy skinny jeans. Or any jeans, for that matter.” And then you turned to leave, ignoring Michael’s quiet laugh behind you. 

—

Two days later and you knew you were going to run into Michael long before it ever happened. The band you’d contacted to perform tonight had come highly requested, but just as loud and hard to control after hours as the one the day you met Michael. They finally left the club at 6 in the morning, stumbling down the road, and you took a moment to sit at the bar and take a deep breath. 

You were exhausted, to put it simply, and you didn’t think you had it in you to spar with Michael, not today. But you knew he’d be grumpy about the noise and you needed coffee if you didn’t want to slump over on the sidewalk and fall asleep on your way home. Taking another deep breath, you grabbed your things and stepped out into the early morning. 

You’d barely taken a step away from the door, too preoccupied with putting your keys in your bag to notice there was a man standing right in front of you until you ran into him. His hands reached out to grab your arms and hold you steady, keeping you from falling, and you clutched onto his arms before finally looking up at him. 

Michael was here, of course, and beneath the concern in his eyes at your stumble was thinly veiled annoyance.

“I know, I know,” you grumbled, tearing your eyes away from his and taking a step back. “It was loud and annoying and don’t I have respect for anyone else on the street?” Your voice was mocking, even through the sigh you let out as you scrubbed your face with your hands. “Please, can we save the lecture for later? I just really need some coffee.”

Michael didn’t say anything, just listened as you rambled. With a small smile, he held his arm out to gesture you forward, resting his other hand on the small of your back as you walked with him towards his coffee shop. 

“Are you sure you’ll be able to make it home okay?” Michael asked, all earlier signs of annoyance at the loud music coming from your club gone as he left you propped up again the customer side of the counter to go around and make your drink. 

“I’ll be fine,” you assured him through a yawn, waving him off. “I just need some caffeine.”

You let your eyes droop as you waited for your coffee, and before you knew it you were being ushered towards the table closest to the counter. Trying to shrug Michael off and ensuring him that you were fine was a waste of your time and energy as he refused to let you go until you were safely in your seat. 

“You were asleep on your feet,” he told you, voice low as if to let you rest. “At least sit here for a while and drink your coffee before you head home.” 

“Whatever you say, gramps,” you muttered through yet another yawn, bringing the coffee cup he placed in front of you to your lips. He laughed, shaking his head before walking back behind the counter again. 

As he worked, your eyes were focused solely on him. He was dressed almost too well yet again, but you thought it suited him. Despite the jokes about his wardrobe, it was hard for you to picture him in anything else. You watched, distracted, as the muscles in his arms flexed when he wiped the counter down. Vaguely, your brain registered the music playing softly over the speakers before your head hit your arms crossed on the table and you were fast asleep. 

—

“Your coffee’s cold,” came a teasing voice from above you coupled with a fresh cup of coffee being placed in front of you. 

With a groan, you sat up, wincing at the crick in your neck. “How long was I out?” Your eyes were bleary and you knew you could fall back asleep in just a moment, but the coffee had your full attention. 

“Just an hour,” Michael assured you, sitting down across from you. “I thought it’d be best if I let you rest here so I wouldn’t find you laid out on the sidewalk later.”

“Oh, I bet that was great for your business. A person half dead on the table, what a conversation starter.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it, it’s been a slow morning.”

“Well, thanks for the coffee and the nap,” you smiled, standing up and grabbing your coffee from the table. “But I really should get home.”

“See you tomorrow?” Michael asked, standing up as well to move back behind the counter.

“Tomorrow,” you nodded, heading out the door.

—

Over the next few weeks, you and Michael settled into a nice routine. Now, when it was a little too loud over at the club in the wee hours of the morning, Michael would try his hardest to maintain his disappointed glare, and your grumbled “whatever, grandpa” as you snatched the coffee cup from his hand turned his glare to a warm smile. You liked it, you admitted to yourself, liked the fact that he was so warm and inviting. The anger and annoyance you felt towards him at first was melting just as fast as his own was towards you, and you were glad for it. 

He had taken to showing up to the coffee shop earlier than usual, making sure he was open when you were heading home. And on days when you were at the club late, he’d bring your coffee to you. Of course, that never stopped you from stopping into the shop later when you were on your way home for another cup of coffee and just a moment of reprieve in his company. 

It was working out great for you, this friendship with Michael. And despite its rocky beginnings, it was really flourishing. Already, you were too used to his presence in your life everyday, the warmth in his eyes when he handed you a cup of coffee or saw you off on your way home to think about your life being any other way. 

And though you didn’t think of yourself as the pessimistic type, waiting for the other shoe to drop, you weren’t altogether surprised when things suddenly went south. 

It happened out of nowhere. You were standing outside the club, talking to an old friend who had come by to play that night. Elias was talking animatedly with his hands, his guitar case slowing him down only slightly. He told you all about his upcoming tour, how he would be gone for six months. You wrapped him up in a hug, telling him how proud of him you were. He had been your best friend for years, always trying to make it in the music industry, and it seemed like he was finally living his dream. 

But over his shoulder, you saw the coffee shop’s lights go out, the sign flip to closed, and you were distracted as Elias finally walked away. You wanted to go check on Michael, see if everything was okay but there was a voice telling you not to, that it’d be more trouble than you could deal with right now, so you left. 

And when Michael’s face haunted your dreams that morning as you slept, you managed to push it aside. At least for now.

—

All those weeks of camaraderie, of spending as much time as you could with Michael in the mornings before you had to go home and get some rest, all of them ended up meaning, apparently, nothing. Or as close to nothing as they could get. 

You knew Michael was in the coffee shop, despite the sign always being flipped to ‘closed’ on your way home in the mornings. He never came down to the club, either, instead ensuring that the distance he created between the two of you was upheld. 

After weeks of the silent treatment, of pretending that you didn’t miss seeing Michael everyday, making fun of him for his always meticulously coordinated suits, you put a plan into motion. You had a record of every musical act that performed for you, and if you thought about them hard enough, you could remember which of them were truly raucous, which ones could bring Michael out of the hiding he’d sentenced himself to. So you set about making calls, filling the club’s schedule up with the rowdiest musicians you had ever hired. 

It only took five days to get his attention. 

You invited the band from the first day you met him to come back, preparing yourself for the headache that was sure to come from their presence. Even still, a headache was a small price to pay if it got Michael to speak to you again. You missed him, which was strange enough for you in its own right, but you wouldn’t be the one to bridge the gap. If he wanted to act like a child, well, you knew how to play that game. 

The night had wound down, the band still on stage, drunk and loud with their instruments. As a drum fill filled the air followed by feedback on the speakers, you held back a groan. But when someone pounded on the door, the grimace on your face turned to a grin. 

“Do you know how late it is?” His words were out before you’d even opened the door fully, his eyes cold as he glared at you. 

“I don’t know, grandpa, but I’m sure you could tell me.” This was the most annoyed you’d ever seen him, and you couldn’t hide the smile on your face. He had played right into your hands. 

“Could you just once be mindful of the way your actions affect others?”

“Oooohhh, like you’ve been these past few weeks?” The words were biting, despite the cheeky smile on your face as you locked eyes with Michael, tilting your head to the side just slightly.

The silence stretched between the two of you for longer than you were technically comfortable with, when there was a crash from inside the club. With a sigh, you turned your back on Michael and walked inside, finding two of the members on the ground, laughing as a third attempted to pull them up. “Alright, guys, I think it’s time for you to head home.”

They filed out, thanking you for bringing them back and letting you know their schedule was clear if you needed them again, and then it was silent inside and you were alone. You were sure Michael had made his way back to the coffee shop, content with pretending you were never friends, like you were just some annoying stranger down the street. 

With a sigh, you grabbed your things and headed for the door, ready to go home. What you didn’t expect was to see Michael, once again standing outside your door, this time with a coffee in hand. 

“I think we should talk,” is all he said, reaching out to hand you the cup. 

Silently, you grabbed the coffee from him and ushered him to follow you back inside the club. You made a beeline for the bar, setting your stuff down and slouching onto a stool. 

“Well?” You said, finally, after the silence had stretched on between the two of you. Looking over your shoulder, you saw Michael standing near the door, hands in the pockets of his slacks. 

“I saw you with your boyfriend a few weeks back,” he said suddenly, eyes roaming the club but refusing to look at you. “And I - well, it doesn’t matter.”

“My boyfriend?” You laughed, shaking your head at him. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Michael’s eyes darted toward your own for just a moment before moving away again. “Oh.”

“Is that what this was all about? You shut me out because you thought I had a boyfriend?” You were off the stool before you could think twice about it, walking over to him, forcing him to meet your gaze. “Why?”

Michael closed his eyes, his head falling back slightly as he sighed. “I think you know why. Not that it matters, it’s inappropriate. I’m much too old for you.”

“Yeah, okay, grandpa. You’re acting like you’re in your 80’s, like you’re about to be put in a nursing home,” you rolled your eyes at his dramatics, stepping even closer to him. “And you’re so incredibly dense.”

And then your hand fisted in his tie, pulling him closer so you could press your lips to his. His hands were out of his pockets in a flash, settling on your hips and pulling you closer to him. 

When he finally pulled back moments later, his eyes were closed and his breathing was slightly labored. “Come on, I’ll let you make me another coffee and you can tell me all about how enamored you are with me.”

“As if the free coffee doesn’t tell you enough?” He quirked an eyebrow at you, waiting as you gathered your things and the two of you walked out of the club. 

“I mean, it’s a start.”


End file.
